Noah Langford - September 2120
(4 hours before arriving at Trinity)
"Come on, let's take a break" Finn's voice cuts through the residual adrenaline buzzing in my veins as I step down from the stage.
My pulse is still elevated, but a precise satisfaction coils in my chest. The presentation went flawlessly. The crowd was engaged, the data is compelling, and, surprisingly, my grandfather even expressed approval. All the months of rigorous testing, sleepless nights, and recalculations culminate in this moment.
Yet now, as I move with Finn toward the lift, a heavy fatigue settles over me, not the tiredness of exertion, but the kind that follows prolonged mental exertion. My mind, always racing, starts forming a new calculation.
"How about we finally go on holiday" I say, letting a hint of levity into my voice, "somewhere… temperate."
Finn pauses, his brows lifting in mild surprise, but he quickly recovers and smiles. "I think that would be… a good idea," he says, nudging me gently.
For a moment, the tension of the last few months lifts, and we share a laugh, it's light, almost careless. But as we approach the lift my father emerges, imposing and exacting as ever. The laughter dies instantly.
"Father" I say evenly, my voice controlled, though a sliver of tension threads through it.
Finn subtly shifts closer, his presence a stabilising anchor. I appreciate it. I've spent years anticipating this confrontation, the scrutiny, the judgment, the inevitable clash over the Nullifer. But now, seeing him in person, a flicker of that long-familiar anxiety snakes up my spine.
"That was… some presentation, Noah," my father states, hands clasped behind his back. His expression is unreadable, and the way he positions himself blocks the lift entrance, forcing engagement.
"Thank you," I reply, measured and calm, hiding the internal tremor. Confidence is a tool, after all.
"That wasn't a compliment," he corrects, stepping forward.
Finn subtly mirrors my stance, edging slightly in front of me, protective. My father's gaze flickers briefly to him, then returns.
"This Nullifer of yours… do you understand the potential danger? The risk you could introduce to GeneX?" his tone is cold, precise. "Introducing such a device could compromise everything I have built. You could endanger the Guardians themselves."
I raise an eyebrow, suppressing a faint, sardonic laugh. The remark is expected, predictable. Yet, it ignites something... something I seldom allow to surface. "Have you considered," I say, matching his gaze deliberately, "that some 'Guardians' might be unworthy of Lunex's power? Or have you forgotten that, if not for a certain Guardian, my brother, your son would be alive today?"
The surge of adrenaline from the presentation fuels my words, sharpening them. I rarely confront him like this, but the accumulated frustration and the disregard for Kai demands articulation.
His face hardens. "It was a criminal with powers who killed your uncle and brother that day, not the Guardians."
"Bullshit," I snap, sharper than intended. Even Finn's eyes widen. I notice, but I do not falter. "You read the reports yourself. We both know they share the responsibility."
"And your solution," my father's voice tightens, a mask of control slipping to reveal genuine ire, "is to wield this Nullifer for petty revenge?"
I tilt my head, voice low and deliberate, every word weighed. "I will use the Nullifer to correct errors. Some people are simply… unfit to hold power."
We lock eyes, the tension threading through the ambient clatter of celebration. Neither of us yields. The noise of the party forms a distant, irrelevant background.
A drunken voice shouts nearby, "Dr Langford! We have a question for you!"
My father's gaze flicks momentarily toward the interruption. The mask snaps back into place. With deliberate control, he places a hand on my shoulder and leans close, whispering, "This discussion is not over," before turning to rejoin the party as if nothing transpired.
I watch him go, the residual calculation in my mind already spinning, strategising the next moves. My chest is tight, my thoughts sharp.
Finn places a hand on my back and guides me into the lift. The door slides shut, and I hear him burst into laughter. I turn, eyebrow raised, calculating what could be so amusing.
"What's so funny?" I ask, keeping my tone even, though a flicker of curiosity lingers.
"I can't believe you actually called him out like that," Finn says, still laughing, reaching over to ruffle my hair.
I stiffen slightly, about to protest, but his next words make me pause. "You know… I'm usually proud of you, but today…" He trails off, still smiling, still messing with my hair.
Heat rises to my cheeks, an inconvenient physiological response I try to suppress. I push his arm away lightly. "Oh, now, Finn, really-"
The moment is abruptly cut off as my phone buzzes in my pocket. At the same time, Finn's device alerts him as well.
"Intruder Alert!"
Both phones flash the warning simultaneously. My mind kicks in instantly, processing probabilities, calculating risks. Someone is in my lab. Someone dangerous.
We exchange a brief glance. The lift continues its slow ascent to the 35th floor, but there's no room for casual conversation. Finn is already reacting, he pulls out his gun, positioning me behind him, before pressing forward toward the lift door.
"Noah, stay behind me," he warns.
I nod, sliding into the corner of the lift. My pulse quickens, but I keep my breathing steady, running through possible scenarios.
Who would have the motive, the means, the power? Why now?
The doors ping open, and my heart accelerates as the lift releases us. Everything seems to speed up, time dilating as my mind assesses the environment. Finn fires, but from my vantage, I notice a solid wall of black mass absorbing the bullets. The intruder has powers.
I lean slightly forward, instinctively calculating trajectories and openings, but Finn's voice stops me. I pull back immediately.
Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the black wall vanishes. I catch Finn pivoting sharply, gun raised, his posture tense and ready to strike but then he suddenly freezes. His voice cuts through my thought processes.
"Kai?"
The word freezes me. My mind churns through impossible calculations. That can't be right. Kai died years ago. There is no scenario, no permutation of probability, in which this is feasible. Yet… everything in me reacts before reason catches up.
Before I fully process it, my feet are already moving. Out of the lift, toward him.
I hear it before I see him.
"Noah."
The word is fragile, broken, and it rips through me like glass.
I freeze. My chest tightens, and for a moment, my mind can't compute. Then recognition crashes over me. The voice… the way it trembles, it's him. My brother... Alive.
For years, I believed him gone. Let myself believe it. Let myself survive with that hole in my chest, with the guilt and the grief, thinking it was final. And now… now he's standing here, shadows flickering around his fingers, his presence impossibly real.
"Kai… is that really you?" I manage, my voice trembling despite my effort to stay composed. Each word is a fight, my throat tight, my lungs burning. It's the same voice I used to call out for him when we were kids.
I see his hands tremble, the shadows around them unstable, mirroring the chaos clawing at my own mind.
Finn is beside him, eyes glinting, but I barely register anyone else. My focus narrows until it's only Kai, only the brother I thought I'd lost forever. My chest rises too fast. I try to keep my expression controlled, but the fight is failing.
Then I watch him step back, panic in every movement, and I know he's going to run.
"We need to go," someone says softly. I barely catch the words at first.
I want to reach him. To tell him he doesn't have to run. But he's already moving, pulling away from me, from Finn.
"Kai, don't go! Please!" My voice breaks, sharper than I intended, raw and desperate. It's the first time I've lost my composure in front of anyone but Finn in years. I can feel it tearing through me, the weight of every moment we lost, every second I thought I'd never see him again.
But he turns and leaves. My mind races, trying to calculate the next steps, trying to make sense of the chaos, but all I can do is watch, powerless, as he disappears down the stairs.
Suddenly, a fragment of logic snaps into place, sharp and urgent. I pivot toward my desk, my mind racing through contingencies, probabilities, and outcomes in a fraction of a second. My fingers clamp around a small device, I barely pause before yanking it free and thrusting it into Finn's hand.
"Don't let him go," I say, my voice tight, betraying the edge of panic I usually suppress.
Finn glances at the device, recognition flashing in his eyes. He nods sharply, understanding the implication instantly, and pivots to pursue, leaving me only a heartbeat to watch him disappear after the impossible.
Finn is gone. The sound of his footsteps, sharp and precise, fades quickly into the distance. And I am left alone, standing in the office, gripping the edge of my desk as if it could tether me to reality.
My mind refuses to settle. Thoughts spin faster than I can track... Impossible. Improbable. This cannot be happening. I run through every calculation, every possible scenario. Every outcome ends in the same conclusion: Kai should be deadt. And yet, there he was, alive, shadows flickering at his fingertips, whole and real.
Panic claws at my chest. My heart hammers, each beat echoing in my skull like a drum of warning. My fingers tighten around the desk, nails biting into the wood. My breathing becomes erratic, shallow, insufficient. My mind fractures between cold logic and raw, suffocating emotion.
Images assault me. The fire. The ash. Our uncle dead in front of us. Every memory, every trauma I had locked away, now crashes forward with terrifying clarity. I hear my father telling my Kai died, over and over, and I cannot stop it.
A high-pitched ringing cuts through my ears. My thoughts feel fragment and the room expands and contracts simultaneously. I feel like I'm shrinking, vanishing, my own existence slipping from me. My genius, my control, everything I rely on—it's evaporating.
I clutch my head. "No… No… No…" I whisper, rocking slightly, desperate to regain equilibrium. My mind screams in numbers and patterns that no longer align.
Images of Kai shift, burning, bleeding, laughing, angry, all superimposed at once. I can't tell which is real. I hear voices overlapping, none of them mine, all demanding, all accusing. My body trembles, unable to respond to anything but panic.
Did my father know Kai was alive? Did he lie to be all this time?
And then the edge snaps. My mind shatters into pieces, fragments of thought, emotion, and fear colliding uncontrollably. I collapse to the floor, curling in on myself, rocking, muttering.
Everything feels to loud, too much.